Rotary Misery
Many of you will know all about the Rotary Clothes-line Duty I have bitch-boy endure in the summer months. I read the weekend supplements in the conservatory overlooking the lawn on which the rotary clothes line is located. Him blindfolded and gagged, his posture collar secured at the back to one of the three spars of the rotary clothes line. His wrists padlocked into the cuffs at the front of his reins. And he slowly walks in a circle, the same circle, again and again, endlessly turning the rotary clothes line. Blind, silenced, frightened and enduring tedium. (See Volume 5 of my journals). His only contact with me is when I go out every twenty minutes or so, to cane his butt to encourage him in [...]